


Must Be Some Good Chems

by jordanthenerd



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Use, F/M, Fighting, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Loss of Virginity, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, bad assery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-06 12:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12211437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordanthenerd/pseuds/jordanthenerd
Summary: Wilson Anne has been content in front of the screen of her Xbox playing Fallout 4. But what happens when she is dragged behind the screen and thrust straight into the the Wasteland of the Commonwealth. She will have to use every ounce of knowledge she's acquired over the years to formulate her own background and story to tailor herself into the Commonwealth. But will a certain, jet-loving ghoul be her undoing?Rated M for: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Drug Abuse, and Sexual Activities





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fallout fanfic and I wanted to stray from the pack a bit. I hope this isn't too terrible. Please let me know what you think! My first time writing in third person.

Wilson Anne let out a tedious sigh as she stared impatiently at the screen of her TV. Currently playing Xbox, she was navigating her way through the Commonwealth of Fallout 4, trying to finish a small side quest that would help rack up her affinity with John Hancock, the Ghoul Mayor of Goodneighbor. She'd already shot up jet and teleported naked as much as she could and to no avail, she was still missing the last piece to the puzzle.   
When she's first unlocked the flirting option: 'That's what we are? Friends?' And received his response about having 'impure thoughts" and being able to 'act on those soon' Wilson all but kicked and screamed and giggled, dislocating the controller from the Xbox.

Perhaps it was an unhealthy obsession or even a weird kink but Wilson was restless in her pursuit for happiness involving the Mayor of Goodneighbor, more so than when she was Romancing the handsome, human/synth Paladin Danse. And what a complicated journey that had been....

"Should have brought the power armor for this one..." Wilson scorned her carelessness as she stumbled upon a Raider settlement adjacent to a super mutant camp. Deciding to take some Psycho and Med-X she charged her character, Nora, straight into the brunt of battle like fodder.

Six stimpacks and a horde of bloodied bodies later, Wilson was smiling smugly as she watched a dialogue pop up in the upper right hand corner of her screen, Hancock liked that. In reference to her drug abuse of course. Good. That was good.

Deciding to opt for a break instead of pressing forward, Wilson placed the game on pause and arose from her bed. She stretched her arms above her head letting out a shrill groan before slumping and slowly migrating to the kitchen.

It was winter break for Wilson in between her semesters of College. She lived in a rural part of the country with single father. Her mother was a quote unquote 'gypsy' who yearned for her time in the screen before and after her pregnancy with Wilson. So as soon as Wilson was out of her body, she was out of their lives, forcing a single father to take on both rolls of the parent. Of course, neither Wilson or her father ever saw her on the big screen and as far as Wilson was concerned, her mother could be living in a drain pipe.

Wilson dove into the fridge, searching for her splendors of war and withdrew: pizza bagel bites, a soda, and a bag of chips from the pantry. A feast fit for a king, Wilson thought as she licked her lips hungrily. Whilst waiting for her bagel bites to finish their last rotation in the microwave oven, she let her eyes drift over to the family portrait on the wall. It was a picture of her father and she.

Growing up, Wilson tried her hand at sports and found that anything involving the word ball was not up her alley of expertise. However, she found solace in hand on hand combat. She frequently involved herself in different forms of self defense classes such as Krav Maga and Muay Thai and Silat, and even fighting with ruled like Brazilian JiuJitsu. She never had a problem dealing with a bully as a young kid or teenager. In fact, she never had a problem with any kind of bullying with a reputation like that.   
Of course, end of the day came and homework would be finished and young Wilson ran out of things to do, even watching TV got boring. Until one day, her dad came home with her very first game console and Wilson found a soulmate. Of course as she got older she upgraded, and not just gaming systems. Boyfriends came and went but she always could rely on video games for comfort (let's face, her dad could only do so much in a mothers role). More specifically, she found a a partner in Bethesda. Free roam games took up her mind. Skyrim was good, but Fallout would always take the cake. She exploited every inch of Fallout 3 and New Vegas, and just like the rest of the gaming community, craved the valiant return of the Fallout creators. So of course, when Fallout 4 was released, how could she resist? That was a trick question. She couldn't.

At the sound of the beeping microwave, Wilson was spurred in action as she retracted the hot plate from the oven and set her feast upon the table. Piling her long blonde hair into a sloppy bun she rubbed her hands together with anticipation before splurging her spoils. Appearance wise, Wilson could be easily described as cute. She was built like a firecracker with a soft, heart shaped face and a button nose with grass green eyes. Her corn silk blonde hair was long, halting at just below her round breasts. Her violin hips were proportioned with her endowed chest and she was cinched at the middle with a small, firm waist.

Of course she was human, not perfect. Although she looked cute, she had impurities as well that thwarted her appearance. She was pale in appearance, stark white scars were barely visible in the contrast of her skin. Her legs and arms were splotched with faded cuts from lapses in judgement at combat classes. The worst of her scars was on her face. Only one instance had she ever had to use all of the fighting she had been taught and that was when a mugger tried to attack her. A long scar stretched down the left side of her face, a gauge in her temple as crooked sliver running down her cheek bone where its journey made a sudden turn towards her mouth, giving her the permanent impression of a crooked smile.

But Wilson didn't let this dampen her spirit. She laughed it off saying she thought it made her look bad ass. And it did. Many people steered clear of her in conversation despite her warm and bubbly personality. She liked people and socializing when it came down to it and she was  _highly_ charismatic and could easily sway someone's opinion. But people didn't like to spawn conversation with her.

"Willie, I brought Chinese food," Wilson's father made his debut as he scuttled through the front door, his slightly creased face was smudged with dirt and sweat, his mechanic uniform stained with motor oil. Wilson paused, a bagel bite hanging out of her mouth as her father made eye contact with her. She chewed slowly and swallowed as her father, Wade, sighed and kicked her boots off. 

"I'll still eat it..." She spoke calmly as her father chuckled and set the food on the table. 

"I don't doubt you will, sweetheart," He chuckled as he placed a quick kiss on the side of her forehead.  She smiled as she turned her attention back to the plate of bagel bites and the new bag of Chinese takeout lay dormant. "By the way, Wilson, there is a package sitting on the front porch addressed to you. I didn't have enough hands to pick it up on my way in. You been ordering stuff online again?"

This was news to Wilson. She hadn't ordered anything online in months. Not since Amazon scammed her out of a set of organization drawers that never arrived...$7.95 pissed away for nothing. 

"I'll go grab it now!" She hopped to her feet and jolted out the front door where indeed, sat a small box wrapped in brown paper...addressed to Wilson. She quickly scooped it off the floor and retreated inside with it, grabbing her plate of food and takeout on her journey back to her bedroom. She shredded the box when she set down her splendors and the first thing she saw was a small, crumpled card with a scrawl on it.  _From a friend..._   Plucking open the flaps she was a little startled to withdraw a game controller. 

" _Huh..._ " She hummed as she investigated it. Small and firm, easier to grip and throw at the TV when levels of agitation rose to high. Definitely a gift from a friend. Pulling the chord out of the original clunky controller, she inserted it into the new one and stifled a small gasp to see it glow an iridescent violet. It appeared as if the entire controller was filled with bioluminescence.  _Pretty...._ Wilson thought in awe. 

Retracting a dumpling from the glorious take out, she took the game off pause to continue their perilous journey for  _love._

Wilson sung along with Diamond City Radio as Nora and Hancock veered off path towards a waterfront property. She vaguely heard Hancock speaking and decided to stop Nora's walking for a moment to listen. 

_"Plenty of folks wanna make life hard for people just tryin' to survive. I'm not willing to stand for that kinda shit,"_

_Ugh, Nora doesn't understand how lucky she is to be traveling with a man of such valor, passion and patriotism,_ Wilson thought to herself.  _Such a bad boy, too, doing chems all the time..._ Well, it's been decided. Definitely a kink. She had seen fan pictures of a smoothskin version of Hancock and, of course,  _swoon_ she did. But she much preferred the ghoulified version. 

She was ripped back from her day dream when she heard static from the TV and stifled a horrified cry as the game froze, letting out a terrible drone. "W-What?! N-No! No, no, no, no! I didn't fucking save! No!"  


There was, simply, nothing worse than gaining so much ground and XP in Fallout, accomplishing so much and getting ass fucked sideways by a Legendary Alpha Chameleon Deathclaw with only two shots of ammo left and four stimpacks.... _or worse,_ not saving and the game going wack and freezing up.

With her jaw completely unhinged, a soft, muted scream faintly left her mouth. Her limbs were frozen. A small, flaming pit of rage began to formulate in her head before she silently leaned forward to turn off the gaming console for the rest of the evening or her rage would get the better of her like it did two years ago, resulting in a broken TV and a month an a half of no video games.

The screen flickered, a small buzz breaking the air in the room. Wilson jerked to a halt at the last second, her slender finger hovering just a centimeter over the power off button. Was there hope yet? She reared back in her seat and allowed her eyes to adjust to a suddenly stark white screen. She cringed sightly, blinking rapidly when she felt the controller buzz in her hands. Suddenly, there were letters being displayed across the screen.

**_Hello_ **

"What the...." Was this a update? A new program running? Perhaps she'd hit a wrong button or voice command causing a dialogue to pop up from a hidden download...

**_I'm sorry about your game, but I really think we should talk..._ **

A chill slithered down Wilson's spine like a snake as her skin began to crawl with goosebumps. Swallowing nervously Wilson began to thumb the A-Button.

 ** _My name is Esmerelda, but you can call me Esme, Wilson..._** Wilson began to breathe heavily and rapidly, fear's cold grasp tightening around her.  ** _I like you, Wilson. So I want to do you a favor...._**

"No, I'm turning this off, screw this satanist shit," Wilson cursed profusely as she lay her finger on the power button, but even after five seconds it still didn't turn off. The white screen remained. Horror replaced the fear in an instant.

 ** _You like these games right? You're really good at them. I think you'd do well to adjust yourself into those kind of scenarios. I hope you'll accept my gift..._** After those words flashed across the screen, a small, neatly wrapped gift box appeared in the center of the screen, finished with white paper and a red bow.

Wilson eyed the screen warily, her hands going slack as the controller hit the ground in a clatter.  _Satan is in my TV and I have to turn it off._ Wilson darted into action, turning off the power button on the side of the flat screen. She blinked owlishly when nothing happened and continued to hit the power button with rabbit punches. When nothing else happened she grabbed the black cord that connected the television to the outlet and yanked it from the wall.

 _There, that does it-_  Wilson was more than baffled to see the white screen still in place with the same haunting present floating in the center.  _What kind of witchcraft?!?!?_ She was out of options. The TV had to be laid to rest. She could do without Xbox for a few days after this shit. Clenching her first tightly, she sent her hand flying at the screen and braced for the shattering impact....that never arrived?

Her forearm was inside the TV, submerged to her elbow. At this point, conscious thought left her, only mind boggling horror as she struggled to retract her arm to flee for safety. Hysteria rose a scream in her throat when she realized her arm was stuck like a rubber boot in thick, sloppy mud. And in that moment of alarm she vaguely felt her fingers graze a small cube of a box. 

 ** _"Thank you for accepting my present, I do hope you'll forgive me..."_** The voice was feminine, with an appealing broad drawl like an esteemed old, Southern Belle. Just as Wilson mustered up a thundering scream to shake the foundation of the house, a ghostly white hand darted out of the television, braided in electrical static  and clamped over her mouth, frigid and vibrating.

Then she was ripped off her feet as the hand around her mouth shifted to her bicep and another hand shot out to grab her other shoulder. Wilson's blood curdling scream was drowned into silence as she was swallowed hole my the flat screen TV, the white light disappearing the minute her feet passed the threshold.

The TV was dark now. The house eerily quiet. The uneaten pile of goodies lay wasting away on her side table. Wilson was gone. 


	2. Ain't That A Kick in the Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson is now waking up in an alternate universe, known to her as the world of Fallout. Now, she must fight her way through the Wasteland to hunt down Esmerelda to bring her back home.

Wilson's face twitched and grumble was summoned from her throat. Slowly she was eased awake from a slumber she didn't realize she had entered. Her thick lashes began to part, revealing a holey, moth bitten tin ceiling above her. Sunlight peeked through in thin, amber beams, awarding some light to the dim room. She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to blink her heavy eyelids open wider. Her head seemed to feel like a solid block of lead was in her skull, sliding back and forth against her cranium. 

The scent was strange. It was a dry stench of mothballs and dust, yet the creaky mattress her body lay upon reeked of mildew. 

"...Where..." She weakly tried to grumble through her parched throat. Her body seemed to hold the consistency of a jellyfish. Forcing herself, she managed to sit upright, scrubbing her eyes vigorously with her fists. She toosed her feet off the bed, meeting the filthy shack floor below and she lowered her hands from her face, the color adjusting back into her vision. 

This mattress didn't belong to Wilson...in fact, the entire room was unfamiliar. A rusted, refrigerator sat in the corner of the shirt, the door cracker off and laying propped against the wall. A dingy counter and cabinet set was near the fridge and in the opposing corner was a desk, with a paint chipped, red tool box and a yellow first aid box set on the floor. The door to the shack was slightly cracked open, leaving a world of (nerve-wracking) mystery to be explored. 

A pit of fear began to formulate in her gut and she was on her feet in an instant. There was a sense of dejavu toying with her frightened mind and Wilson didn't like it one bit. She shakily started for the door, only to realize she was in the nude. Her only coverage was her lacy white bra and underwear. 

"What in the-," Her voice cracked in her desert dry throat and she doubled over wheezing. On the counter, next to the fridge, she spotted a carton with the word 'water' on it. Without a second thought,  she lurched for it, ripping the carton open and began to gulp down the liquid. Suddenly, the taste hit and she gagged as she felt silt running across her tongue. Sputtering the left over water in her mouth out she cursed avidly and tossed the carton down. 

On the bright side, her thirst was gone. 

"What the hell is going on," Wilson growled as she rose back to her feet. "I need some damn clothes. What happened to my clothes?" She scanned the room and only found a scrap of paper on the desk. Padding over, she gently picked up the fragile piece of parchment with a neat scrawl on it. 

**_You're awake. Sorry I couldn't be there to talk to you in person, Wilson, but I knew you'd be inconsolable. You're probably on your way to figuring this out already, but you aren't home. In fact, you aren't even in the world you knew anymore. I wanted to treat you to something you would enjoy, I feel I owed it to you. Anyways, I won't spoil the surprise for you, but to ease your mind, your clothes didn't make the journey to this world. There should be some things in the dresser to help you out. I would also take a peek under the bed before you leave._ **

**_You may not see me but I'll be watching! Best of luck!_ **

**_Love, Esme_ **

"What the fuck," Wilson wasn't normally so blatant or crude with her language, but this had her baffled. What did this mean, 'she wasn't in the world she knew anymore'. Not even bothering for clothes, Wilson made a beeline for the crummy shack door and burst it open to reveal a sweet satisfaction for her dejavu and a horrifying realization...

The world was more dusty earth and dead grass with weathered asphalt roads winding the land. Before her was a body of water, barrels and debris floating here and there. Behind her was an unpleasant warmth that seemed to seep into her skin like a poison and Wilson turned to bare witness to a sea of green haze that was snugly nestled over blackened, charred trees that were all tilted the same direction as if by some means of significant force, and a battered, interstate in complete shambles. Radiation...

Wilson allowed herself to answer the unspoken question in her head as she watched a swarm of mutated, overgrown flies launching an attack on what appeared to be a massive, pink mole rate. The hysteria was choking her like a vice grip around her neck and in one quick, swift movement, she slammed the door shut and slid down the cold shack door, her back pressed agaisnt the frigid metal as she tried to calm herself down from what could possibly be described as the first, and worst, anxiety attack in her life. 

 _I'm in the Fallout world..._  

It was nightfall when Wilson finally calmed down and came to her senses (true there was no sense to be made about the situation at hand). She was staring at her bare thighs and pale hands that lay limp in her lap as her brain swirled with a thick fog.  _Why...What is happening...What do I do..._  

Then the words spurred across her head. 'You may not see me, but I'll be watching' what on earth could that mean? She was being watched? Shouldn't Wilson be able to recognize her. After all, she had-, 

In a rush of memories and discomfort, Wilson vaguely remembered black hair, darker than any midnight sky and a purple eye. Purple eyes would be hard to miss...But Wilson couldn't help but think she was forgetting something. No matter how hard she racked her brain she couldn't remember the details of what happened between her bedroom and this shack. Braiding her hands in her hair she tried to fight the tremble that threatened her bottom lip.  _I wish there was some way to go back through my memories to see what I forgot...It's there I know it..._  

That was when the idea sparked into Wilson's head. She  _could_ go back through her memories. She only needed to find her way to the woman who could actually root around in her noggin for those answers. Doctor Amari from the Memory Den. If Wilson could remember a few minute details about the woman, Esme, then surely there was more information to be unearthed, and Doctor Amari would know just what to do. She would know who to look for and how to get out of this...game. 

But how would Wilson go about tracking her down? She had no connection in the Commonwealth, or the Wasteland in general. The light bulb in her brain flickered once more. She had an answer to that as well. She did know of one connection with many different connections...Detective Nick Valentine. Diamond City was closer than Goodneighbor anyways. It would be best to stop by his office first. 

"Everything just feel so real," Wilson murmured to herself, opening and closing her hand. It was true, the air was nippy and the autumn scent that danced on the wind was too realistic to be constructed by pixels and computer hardware. 

It was settled. Wilson wrenched herself to her feet and padded over to the dresser, fumbling through the drawers until she withdrew a corset and leather pants set. There was a coat rack next to the door with a bomber jacket on it and a frayed scarf.  The corset was a tad small and the pants a bit long, but Wilson made them work. Next to the bed, was a discarded pair of boots that, luckily, fit just right. She began to slip on her newfound clothes, ignoring the scent of mothballs that clung to them like a second skin. 

After she wrapped the scarf around her neck, hiding her mouth ever so slightly, Wilson knelt next to the bed and peered under curiously. Her hand dove under the bed and pulled out a long black case. Unhinging the lid, she revealed a long, sleek sniper rifle. The powerful kind that was right up Wilson's alley in terms of long distance weaponry. It wasn't her number one go to, but it would have to work until she could get her hands on a melee weapon like a knife or power fist. Hand to hand combat would always be her hunting grounds. 

Next, she raided the rusted toolbox and and first aid kit. She found a bottle of Buffout, Rad-X, and four Stimpacks. In the desk was a bobby pin and twenty caps. Content with her findings, Wilson made her way back to the soiled, musty mattress. Travelling the wastes at night, without a map, proved to be fruitless and extremly dangerous. She would have to wait until morning, and until then, recover from her strenuous panic attack. 

As she lay on the mattress, she began to count the few pieces of ammo she had, praying it would lull her to sleep. However, sleep didn't come to her willingly, but in the form of exhaustion. In the morning, she would travel the perilous Wastes in search of Goodneighbor. She was dealt an awful tricky hand. If she was in the Capitol or Mojave, she would have one  _hell_ of a journey. Yet, she didn't focus on that then. Only on the soothing darkness of the back of her eyelids....One last thought crossing her mind as sleep captured her...

_John Hancock might be in Goodneighbor...Should I stop and say hello?_


	3. Diamond City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson has stumbled into Diamond City begging Nick Valentine for help.

Wilson set out the very next morning, anxiety nipping at her heels. She had captured a bit of shut eye, but it wasn't something that brought her content. She still felt like crud. She felt she needed to wash her face and set down with a cup of fresh coffee, however, she figured that this world was probably lacking in that particular resource. 

Slinging the rifle over her shoulder, she left the rundown shack, the early dawn air was brisk, wrapping around her like a veil. Shivering ever so slightly, she pulled the scarf further up her nose and gazed around the lake front property. Off in the distance, she recognized the Mass Fusion Disposal Site and sent a silent prayer of thanks up above that she was more likely than not in the Commonwealth. 

Good. She knew what too avoid in her journey. 

Since there was no immediate road connecting the shack to rest of humanity, Wilson scaled the small rock quarry to the right of the lake house and walked a few yards before finally stepping foot on a broken highway. Her green eyes practically glowed against the dim light of the day as she carefully evaluated her surroundings. Safe, for now, at least. 

Sadly, this was short lived as she caught movement on the edge of the water.  _Mirelurk._ Her jaw clenched and she dropped to the ground in a low crouch, hoisting the weapon up to her shoulder. Thankfully, the mechanism was the same as the rifle her dad had once taught her how to use one day when she was in high school after he won a free, month long membership to the local hunting club. She propped her elbow on her knee, racked the bolt, and flipped the safety off. Lining the face of the ugly, mutated mirelurk into her sights, she slowly squeezed the trigger.

A shrill shriek broke the air as the Mirelurk hit the ground in a lifeless heap. Wilson allowed herself a relieved sigh. Swiftly and quietly, she made her way around the lake and towards the other shambled lake homes to scavenge for more supplies. While on the roof of one particular home, she heard voices. Peaking through the broken ceiling she could see raiders talking to each other in lax tones, drinking bourbon and whiskey from their glasses on the opposite lake home. 

Wilson couldn't fight the twinge of guilt that coiled in her gut as she readied her rifle, gathering one her sights.  _They sure do look like regular people..._  Wilson thought to herself as she racked a round in the chamber. Regretfully, she pulled the trigger the loud gunshot ringing her ears as a raider fell, followed by several cries from his friend below. When the other raider made his way to the rooftop, Wilson took him out quickly and efficently as well. 

She quickly slipped from the thoroughly scavenged lake home and to the one the two raiders occupied. She managed to find a chem box and a few more bobby pins. Wilson stared down sadly at the two bodies and tried to shake the guilt from murdering two people. She searched their bodies and managed to discovered a few rounds of ammo fit for her rifle and several caps. Wilson stood from the body she finished picking through and caught sight of somehting in the corner of a broken door frame....

Tripping toward her new discovery, she allowed her hand to wrap around the smooth wood of the baseball bat and smiled smugly to herself. She would like a bladed weapon of a fist weapon but beggars can't be choosers. This would do nicely for melee and now she could conserve some of her ammo. However, Wilson wasn't about to go charging in looking for battles to pick. She would still use stealth to her advantage and avoid a fight if she could. After all, there's no proof that she would be able to regenerate like Nora if she gets wasted. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been hours of merciless travelling. Wilson had scavenged many houses and shacks along the way to Diamond City and found a few Caps Stash and one bobby pin box. Everything had been fine as far as fighting was concerned, only having to take out a disgusting bloatfly and a few mole rats. Until she accidentally stumbled upon a small group of over confident Gunners who had just finished a job and collected their pay. 

Wilson stared up at the great green jewel of the Commonwealth, something warm spreading through out her. And it wasn't the knife would she had on her hip. Sure, she was covered in dirt, dust, and the blood of the gunners . Wilson tightened the harness around her thigh where her new trust knife was strapped she had picked off the body of one of the gunners. Her pockets also jingled with well over two hundred caps from the gunners hard work. 

Wilson was rather startled to see that the garage shutters to the ancient ball park stadium were closed. Diamond City Security still circulated on their standard watch routine. Wilson's green eyes drifted along the shutters and landed quizzically on the rusty speaker. She approached it tenatively and pressed the call button on the machine. 

" _State your name and business,_ " The speaker droned, static marring the man's speech almost beyond recognition.

"Er... My name is Wilson,"

 _"You don't sound like a guy,_ " 

WIlson huffed at the crass comment. "Because I'm not. I have some work for Detective Valentine," 

" _What do you need Nicky for? He's got enough going on right now,"_

"I, uh, well...I'm a merc. My client is paying big caps,"

" _....alright, I'll open the gates up. Keep your pants on,"_

Not too shortly after those words were spoken, did the shutters give a groan and a screech of metal on metal. Slowly, the shutters began to recede like a garage door. At last, when they were open enough for Wilson to slip under, she took off into the dark stadium. She narrowly avoided knocking over a round man in a dingy suit...Mayor McDounough. Her eyes widened as a shot of horror raced through her and she ran even faster.

She reminded herself as she ran through the hall that she wasn't Nora. She wasn't looking for a missing baby. Wilson herself had been kidnapped and dumped and needed to find her attacker. Besides, Wilson, although she had travelled the Wastes for hours, did not stop once to think of formulating a background story and had no doubt that the picking and prodding, nosey synth- mayor would shove his nose in her business. 

And just casually telling people she was from a different universe sounded like it would blow over about as well as screaming that she was a synth. 

Wilson also knew how to navigate where she was going. But staring at the new detail of Diamond City, Wilson's mouth went dry. It looked like an extravagant circus with all the different colored tent flaps and roof tops. Smoke wriggled through the air like a snake from different house tops and tin roofs and Wilson had to rub her eyes. It was glorious to lay her eyes upon. 

Without wasting another minute ogling, Wilson raced down the stairs and quickly stepped around several residents and Diamond Security as she made a break for the alley. SHe could hear merchants shouting and yelling out their great new deals and trying to barter for good prices. She even vaguely heard Nat, Piper's sister, shouting about 'Publick Occurences' newest story.

It wasn't long before WIlson found the glowing pink heart sign and she entered the office silently. Ellie, the assistant looked up from her paperwork and Wilson breathlessly demanded, "Nick Valentine," Ellie eyed her warily before scooting back in her chair and shouted around the corner, 

"Nick! Got someone down here asking for you!" 

 _"Eh? Ellie, we're not accepting anymore cases right now, we're too loaded down!"_ Wilson felt her heart lurch at the sound of Nick Valentine's voice. Heart thumping nervously, she heard footsteps above her head and soon, Nick Valentine himself appeared behind Wilson. His battered fedora and tattered trench coat that was almost as holey as his face and neck that exposed his wires and circuitry. 

Nick's glowing golden eyes fell upon the small female in front of him. She was small, pretty easy on the eyes with corn silk blonde hair tumbling across her shoulders. She was covered in a substantial amount of grime and dried blood and he took notice of her bleeding hip. 

"Nick Valentine, right?" Wilson demanded and Nick turned his chin up at her. 

"Yeah, my aplogies, miss, but we aren't taking anymore cases right now, we got a full work load-," As Nick spoke, he watched as something close to desperation flashed across the young girl's eyes and she reached in her jacket to pull out a small sack and threw it on the table in front of Ellie who jolted with surprise. 

"That's every cap to my name. Over two hundred should be in there. If that doesn't cover it then I'll just stay in your debt however long you need me until I've payed it off. But I need your help," Wilson begged. At the same time, she was star struck. This was Nick-freaking-Valentine she was talking to. 

Nick gauged the girl carefully, his robotic eyes flickering up and down over her. She was so desperate for help, hell, he hadn't seen anybody come into his office and throw down caps like that before in a long time. 

"...Is this about synths," Nick demanded, knowing too many townspeople had barged in to his office demanding answers about the Institutes people. They were a majority of his cases, after all. Wilson scowled and shook her head. 

"No,"

"Then we have a deal. Ellie, take Miss, er,"

"Wilson," The young girl interjected, turning fully to face Nick now. He furrowed his brows as he noticed the gruelling scar on her face. Scars are common of course, but he wouldn't mind hearing the story behind that one. 

"Right. Take Miss Wilson to get cleaned up. She looks like she's been drug through the gutter, I'm sure she'll want a nice bath and some food before we start ironing out the details of this case," Wilson was utterly baffled as she watched Nick retreat to his desk. That was definitely a lot of generosity and hospitality he was extending to her. 

"Come right this way, Wilson," Ellie rose from her chair to guide the young girl toward their bathhouse.


End file.
